


Numb

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya's sisters died in a car accident three weeks ago. Shizuo doesn't think Izaya's the same anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedlove/gifts).



Three weeks after the funeral, Shizuo is more than sure his boyfriend isn't the same. Of course, he doesn't expect Izaya to be completely okay after witnessing the loss of his sisters, not this early. But there's something not right, not in the way grief manifests itself as an invisible force shoved behind walls held too high to hold onto for much longer.

He hasn't pushed it. No, Izaya needs time. Which Shizuo is more than happy to give, meaning checking up on him every now and then just to make sure Izaya's getting somewhere and taking care of himself. As his boyfriend, there's only so much Shizuo can do, reminding himself to be respectful when Izaya tells him (nodding, refusing to look him in the eyes when Shizuo asks) he needs to be left alone. The news of the twins' deaths hit him hard, much more than Shizuo has ever expected.

And for all the time he's known Izaya, some things stay a mystery. Some, including up to now with weeks of silence growing longer, he thinks he understands more than Izaya can communicate with. Grief is just one of those pesky emotions neither of them comprehend fully.

It's not the way Shizuo expects it to be. A little down, maybe just listless and tired and okay with being left alone for a while. What he doesn't notice is that Izaya isn't grieving at all—not to outsiders. If he notices Izaya's turned his phone off then he'll call it Izaya still coping. Not hearing his name on the streets, sometimes, and wondering what's going on.

Then as five days pass without a single word from Izaya, endless voicemails and text messages left on his phone, Shizuo decides to find the source of why there's an inkling of suspicion in the back of his mind pushing its way forward.

He doesn't mean to pry, honestly. Not when Izaya needs to get through this and if he wants to cope with his own issues that's fine, it's never wrong. Not until Shizuo starts worrying because Izaya has in essence, disappeared off the face of the Earth with no explanation as to why.

There's an inkling of an idea, nestled in the next text message on a Thursday night, thunderstorms moving in above the roof of an empty apartment. _[Izaya, I'm coming over. Are you okay?]_ And he swallows the anxiety, scowling when he knows Izaya's more than capable, stupidly hopeless at times, but capable of knowing his strengths and weaknesses down to a point. The faults slip in through cracks of armor and trying too hard not to feel anything at all.

Heading out, the wind rustles in Shizuo's hair, coming and going with a chilly bite and thunder looming overhead. Just in crackling rolls, the same feeling of hearing the picture frame of Mairu and Kururi falling from shaking hands and breaking on the floor that Shizuo was never meant to see. The pain starts in waves and aches, sometimes contorting Izaya into shapes and shades of invincibility and invisible to make room for dealing with too much at once.

Shizuo has strayed from his initial instinct to offer any source of comfort, instead going for the frayed version of leaving pieces of himself, maybe, for Izaya to find when he reaches them. Then with leaving him this sort of mess for being too bothered with silence and sleepless nights left with the pit of unease in his stomach and through his chest, he doesn't think that's worth any grain of salt. All it's done is prolong the inevitable.

Fingering his phone in his hand, he knows by the stillness that Izaya hasn't even glanced at his text messages. The walk to Shinjuku takes about twenty minutes, less if he can run (and he's more than inclined to do so) some of the way. Besides, catching himself in an awkward gait of jogging and walking leaves little to think more on, considering that his mind is full of Izaya and his fingers are as empty as they are when he reaches for Izaya's and he's not there.

There's no way to imagine the pain his boyfriend feels. Shizuo doesn't try to, having the common decency not to expect anything even if Izaya says he's _fine_ and he needs to be left alone to sort himself out. Which is _bullshit_ , utter fucking bullshit, mainly because Shizuo _knows_ Izaya more than anyone else, questionably Izaya, and he knows that Izaya pretends to be okay to ignore when he's in pain until it internalizes and settles enough for him to ignore himself.

Izaya sure has a funny way of throwing people off, Shizuo notes to himself as his breath condenses in front of his lips, thunder growing louder as he arrives in the lobby of the apartment complex. Sure enough, one glance to the receptionist allows him the way up, not necessary but a simple luxury of having been known too long to have to put up a fight with the security guards.

The entire way up, he can't stop when the heavier thoughts leak through his eyes.

It's only natural, he knows, reminding himself in the same gentle tone Kasuka uses when he recommends that Shizuo go check on his boyfriend. Only he's not as composed as Kasuka, something he admires in his younger brother and he sees it in Izaya, in a more twisted light that's hard to explain.

The elevator stops on Izaya's floor, the floor shaking under his feet from thunder threatening to bring the entire place down. Shizuo's mind is made up, his heart is somewhere else and not in his chest, not that he thinks with it but it comes up with a lot of stupid ideas and too many good ones to keep track.

His knuckles rap against the door, no chance of backing out now and his blood pulses through his ears, deafening next to the sound of thunder echoing inside the building.

"Izaya, open up," Shizuo starts, two knocks at the door and waiting, poised for more. Silence meets him, low growls of thunder in his ears as it grows with each passing moment. He could easily break the door in, maybe get a rise out of Izaya, but with another knock he finds hopeless he tries the doorknob for the sake of not alerting anyone else to what he's doing.

(Or the fact it's hard to keep himself together either, emotions are deadly and frustrating and too painful when he's like this.)

One twist of the knob and a click comes, the door sliding open with the bare minimum of effort and immediately Shizuo's thinking too much, wondering what the hell his boyfriend has been doing with the door unlocked. Trying not to reason for a death wish of his, Shizuo shakes his head, takes a glance inside the dark room, and invites himself in.

Inside is eerily quiet. Almost still, like nothing has been touched for days or weeks and maybe no one's here. Maybe Shizuo is overreacting, except he knows deep down somewhere in his gut and clenching his chest too tightly that Izaya's not okay and he's not about to pop out and ask why Shizuo's worrying so much.

Bitterness coats his tongue, pressing into his immediate thoughts before he can get rid of the picture of cold hands, blood, and no heartbeat. It's not like Izaya, he tells himself, slipping off his shoes and glancing around with the hope of forgetting something like that.

"Izaya?" he calls, making his presence known. "Hey, Izaya, where the hell are you?" Lightning flashes from the windows up by Izaya's desk, mind heading to the bedroom they share, since it's clear no one has been down here for a long time.

Ignoring the ache that comes throbbing in between his ribs and shocking his lungs with static is a lot harder when he's focused on not choking on the words in his throat. He's not one for being emotional, those mushy gushy things are reserved for the soap operas he catches Izaya watching in his free time.

Up the stairs, he tells himself to breathe, it's nothing bad or new or strange, just out of the ordinary silence when Izaya can talk enough to fill the entire room. Lately he hasn't been like that, just…gone.

"Izaya, answer me already!" His patience is slipping through his fingers, raising a hand to rub at his eyes, feeling too hung up and dry when they start to sting. The bedroom is at his right, the door closed to just a sliver of darkness slipping through as far as Shizuo can see. Immediately he lowers his voice, taking the door and pushing it open without another word because if Izaya's here then he knows why Shizuo is, no explanations necessary.

At least, not from Shizuo.

Izaya hears his boyfriend come in after calling for him again, the anxiety in his tone not registering in his ears, maybe he just doesn't care. As soon as the door opens he curses himself for forgetting to lock it, tightening his hold on the bedsheets cocooning him away from the rest of the world. Shizuo happens to be the bearer of reality, here to strike him with the knowledge that he's not keeping up the act very well.

A weight dips on the bed, coming to rest. Nothing touches Izaya, feet tucked in and knees to his chest, too tired to care anymore. Probably sore, having been here for too long and he doesn't remember a time like this, if there has ever been one.

"You know," gentle as the start of rain outside, he hears Shizuo start, shifting on the bed by the way it squeaks with his weight. "I thought that you'd be better off, just taking some time to…" Silence. Whatever he means to say, it doesn't matter. Izaya doesn't feel anything, no, just not better than ever, like he promised weeks ago.

"I didn't know how I could fail you so many times," he speaks up again, sincerity making it all the worse and Izaya pulls himself in tighter, ignoring the ache in his knees because he's not so young anymore and in here he only grows older. "I told you I'd be there for you, and I wasn't."

Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the single window in their bedroom. Izaya can't remember the last time he… "I know you're probably thinking that I'm an idiot or it doesn't matter. But it does. It matters that you're here and I wasn't, and I am now. It doesn't make up for all the time that I wasn't, but I didn't expect to fix the stupid things I've done in one night."

Izaya stays silent, throat closed off from one too many sounds of melancholy, a new experience he'd rather never hear again. His chest folds tightly in on itself, tying his lungs over his bones and clasping every feeling tightly shut. Behind his eyes are memories of broken picture frames, broken apologies from Shinra and Celty and no one else who showed up at the funeral besides Shizu-chan, who's here now like he's the one that's died and it's wrong how fate has changed. He's never been a believer, never now even when his eyes are redder and duller, flickering like dying flashlights when wet and his pillows know more than he'd ever admit aloud.

"I'm sorry," Shizuo's voice wavers, skipping as thunder rolls, booms, and lightning claps just outside his window. The rain remains at a constant lull, pulling at Izaya's eyelids to just sleep for once, but he can't. "Fuck, I'm sorry for everything I didn't do."

He'll never admit that maybe it hurts more than imaginable. Instead, he's content to think that the weight on his back is Shizuo's hand, pulling himself over the bed and too close to breathe. Somewhere inside his heart pounds, echoing and empty with the gooseflesh rising from his legs to the back of his neck, feeling too many sensations at once he has to quell before they start to hurt. They're too messy to deal with, he knows he's fine.

"I love you," Shizuo's fingers brush against Izaya's ear, smoothing his hair and he won't try anything more. Not especially after Izaya swallows, probably to try and come up with something that fails miserably in trying to prove he's just fine. "So don't pretend anymore, no one's watching you."

Izaya's eyes lower, outlined in the flashes of lightning that come like bullets firing, one after another. He's too quiet, but silent enough that he doesn't need words. Shizuo thinks he does on the other hand, and it doesn't matter if he's wrong because Izaya needs to hear _something_ other than what's inside him.

"It's okay to let go," Shizuo's anxieties are quelled for now, extinguished in the cold feel of Izaya's skin, his fingers brushing Izaya's temple absentmindedly. He knows nothing stops what comes next, doesn't try to fix what isn't broken. "You know that, but you needed to hear it."

Silence prevails for moments stretching on longer and longer, loss heavy on their minds.

It's almost too much.

"It's okay to cry," his voice wavers, threatening to break if he chokes up over this and he believes it to be the feeling of anguish, cold and dark and seizing his spine as he catches his breath.

"No one has to know you've held out for this long."

In a couple of breaths, slow and anticipating, Izaya turns and buries his head in Shizuo's chest. His back shudders, shoulders trembling and what wasn't at the funeral decides to release itself now. Shizuo holds him tightly, covering them both with blankets and doesn't say anything more.

There's nothing left to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to make this its own story, it was a lot of fun to write as well. Thank you to everyone who has been writing me requests on tumblr, I appreciate the challenge. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. ꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡


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